


Told you so...

by Psychopersonified



Series: Are we ever going to talk about this? [9]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Banter, Conversations, Established Relationship, Fluff, Healthy Relationships, Humour, Light Angst, M/M, Q's Ex, Unfinished Business, and not so healthy ones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:14:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25030723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psychopersonified/pseuds/Psychopersonified
Summary: Continuation of 'Triangle Sandwiches' in which Bond meets someone from Q's past and doesn't handle it as well as he should.This time, while Bond is away, Q that has to handle the situation with Alistair.James gets to say "I told you so..." later.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Series: Are we ever going to talk about this? [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1763425
Comments: 18
Kudos: 155





	Told you so...

**Author's Note:**

> Recommended to read 'Triangle Sandwiches' first. 
> 
> There's references to backstories in this one. So it might be useful to read the rest of the series (if you haven't already) to get a better picture. 
> 
> If you have been following my stories, then this is a 'flashback' to a few weeks before Shadow Architect.

**Q-Branch**

Weeks into the six week project and they are approaching the final stretch. The trio is about to submit the paper to NATO for distribution. 

With the deadline looming, every bit of his free time has been spent polishing the paper and presentation. Q has barely spent anytime home the whole week. 

Bond isn’t around either, he’s in Liberia with 005 assisting her to wrap up a long term mission breaking up a blood diamond trade, mined using forced labour with the proceeds used to fund insurgents. 007 is posing as a British middleman wanting to export the diamonds into Europe. 

An internal call comes in on his Lab line. “How about dinner?” the caller asks without preamble. 

“Not pizza again please. I’m craving a good curry about now. Oh, do get some extra popadoms,” he answers instantly.

“No, Benji. I meant what if we went out for dinner tonight?” 

“Oh, where did you have in mind?”

“Somewhere in Bermondsey?”

“That's a little out of the way for Mark and I. He gave me a lift to work today.” 

“Actually I meant just us.” 

Q pauses, “I don’t think that's a good idea…” 

“Benji come on, the project is almost done. Please? For all times sake. I’ll give you lift home so James can’t fret over your safety.” 

“Alistair, you know I can’t. Security protocols.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll get curry takeaway then, how much extra popadoms?”

“As much as they would let you. Ta!” Q instructs him cheerfully. 

—-

As luck would have it, Mark gets called to run urgent analysis of mission specific data that could change the parameters of 004’s assignment the next day. 

That leaves Q alone to finish up the paper with Alistair. After a final hectic run through of the paper and presentation, they send it off to the organisers just before 7pm cut off - it's not that they couldn’t ask for an extension, but everyone just wants to get this over with and return to their normal projects. 

Alistair checks the outbox to make sure the file went through and gives Q the thumbs up. There’s always that palpable sense of relief once you’ve sent off a paper that’s due after weeks of frantic activity - all of a sudden, you have free time again. 

Both men slump back against the Chesterfield couch sighing with satisfaction. Alistair holds up his bottle of beer and points it at Q. The other man responds with his own, clinking their bottles together for a silent toast. 

A few minutes later, a soft ping signals a response from the organisers thanking them for their submission and if they would kindly confirm the speaker for next week’s presentation. 

“Ohoh! I have a surprise for you,” Alistair tells Q now that they’re crossing that bridge. “I spoke to Mallory today. He’s agreed for you to make the presentation. 

_Ah crap..._ “What about Mark?” 

“M’s limiting it to only one person from MI6 for security reasons - doesn’t want people on the outside being able to identify too many personnel who know about the system. So we agreed that if that was the case then it would be best if you were the one presenting. There’s been a lot of interest and its sure be a mad scuffle during the Q&A session.” 

Q sighs. Fine… he sees the logic. Mark would hate being grilled during Q&A - his last organisation wide presentation about changes to the email system ended in him wearing sweat patches and nearly passing out from nervousness. It was difficult to watch as a friend. 

It wasn’t the Mark didn’t know his thing, he knew it inside out; but Hayden would openly dress him down as soon as Mark faltered even a little. Hayden loved using Mark’s nerves to inflate his own ego. Mark would further loose confidence and get more wobbly - it was all a reinforcing cycle of abuse. It got so bad that Monneypeny would step in to moderate time to time. He and Eve would then take Mark out after and have good riff about what a bastard Hayden was over drinks. 

“Have you told him?” Q’s concerned Mark would take it as another jab to his abilities. 

“Yes. He’s disappointed, but relieved at the same time,” Alistair confirms. 

Yep. Sounds like Mark. 

“So it will be just us and a few of my interns in Brussels. I’ll send over the details tomorrow. Do you have a preference for the flight? I’d thought we’d arrive the day before, give ourselves time to do a final run through and maybe indulge in a little sightseeing around the city.”

Working with Alistair again the last few weeks have reminded Q how much he enjoyed their camaraderie. Where Mark is timid and shy, Alistair is confident and decisive; And Q is somewhere between the two of them. 

Alistair doesn’t quibble with the small details or get lost in technicalities, he always has the big picture in mind and constantly pushes the agenda forward. Having someone like that to steer a team can make impossible things happen. He really should be running his own startup. 

At times he reminds Q so much of James. Their powers of observation and political savviness; they way they both use inductive or deductive reasoning to make logical conclusions about the motivations of others just from a set of behaviours or communication (spoken or unspoken) - and are often right about it. A skill that Q is slowly learning from James. Perhaps James is right to be concerned about leaving him alone with Alistair…

 _James!_ He hasn’t thought about 007 for nearly half a day. Haven’t even checked in on him. Normally, he’d at least sneak a peek into the Ops Room just to keep up with his progress. 

“…Benji?” Alistair snaps him out of his reverie. 

“Sorry, what? Got distracted thinking of something,” Q smiles apologetically.

Alistair returns the smile fondly, nothing unusual there, “I was asking if you had any preference about the flight?”

“Oh, um… the day before would be good. I need some time for the meds to wear off,” Q admits openly. 

“Still afraid of flying?” 

“Not as bad as it before, but still not the keenest flyer.”

“If that’s the case, would you like me to be on the same flight?” Alistair offers considerately. 

“That… won’t be necessary. I’ll be fine. Thank you though. And I’ll do the bookings myself. MI6 security protocol; you understand.” Q quickly brushes off the offer. James would have a fit. Speaking of which, he would be more or less alone with Alistair in Brussels. 

Alistair nods in understanding. “Well I guess we’re done here tonight then,” he slaps both hands on his thighs to signal the end of this stage of the project. 

He helps Q clean up the mess from their take away curry dinner. Alistair washing the dishes and Q putting them away, reminiscent of their brief time together years ago. It was so easy slipping back into their old comfortable routine these past few weeks that Q found it hard to remember why they’d broken up in the first place. 

After he puts away the last plate, Q turns around to find Alistair standing up close in front of him. He had been so preoccupied with his thoughts he hadn’t heard the other man move. 

“Oh…!” he gasps in surprise. The next instant he’s being kissed on the mouth - held there by a strong hand cupping the back of his neck and another around the waist. 

“Alistair… stop,” Q tries to back away but he’s trapped in the crook of the L-shaped pantry cabinet by the length of Alistair’s body and has nowhere to manoeuvre out of the situation. 

The hand around his waist slips under his jumper and untucked shirt to press against bare skin. The same time Q feels an insistent tongue probe between his lips. 

“…Stop it…” he hisses at Alistair who uses Q’s protest to slip his tongue in. 

Alistair is taller than James, but not as heavily built. His toned physique is pleasing to the eye, but he will never need to depend on it for his life. Bond in contrast, is a coiled powerhouse of explosive speed and strength with denser bones and muscles. Q is used to grappling with him, even if it is in play so he knows a few tricks.

“Enough!” Q breaks the hold around his neck by snaking an arm between them and using his shoulder to lever Alistair’s arm away. As soon as Alistair loses grip, Q slides away from the inside corner. Putting distance between them.

He’s more disappointed than angry. They are riding high on a successful but stressful sprint in terms of project work, had a few drinks to decompress, in an atmosphere that was far too cosy and private - these were the exact same conditions that lead them to fall into each other in the past. 

“Alistair, we’re not doing this. What we had… it's in the past. I’m not single anymore,” Q states firmly, wiping his lips on his sleeve. 

Alistair crosses his arms where he leans against the cabinets, “So if you _were_ single—” 

“—Moot point. I’m not.”

“That’s not a _no_ , Benji,” the _fucker_ had a knack of pointing out inconvenient truths... just like James. 

And the truth is... if he was single and had never known Bond, he probably _would_ go home with Alistair tonight. Just as James _would_ fall into the bosom of some femme fatale he meets along the way as he had before. They’re both adults. _But that’s not the point now is it?!_

Q scrubs a hand over his face, “Look, we’ve both had a bit to drink. Do you really think this is a useful line of questioning?”

“Depends if the answer is one I want to hear,” cheeky smirk. 

“This is ridiculous.” Q throws his arms up, exasperated. 

“You never gave me a chance - you never gave _us_ a chance. I looked for you everywhere. Your neighbours said you moved out of the country… All this while, you were right here in London. Just down the road in fact,” Alistair tells him wistfully.

 _Dammed guilt trip_. He’ll admit he deserved that. “I’m… I apologise for that. It was remiss of me. I could have probably dealt with it better.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were MI6?” he probes.

“Contract stipulation—“ Q lies.

“Bullshit. You’re not an undercover operative. They’d vet your significant other before they let you disclose, but they wouldn’t stop you.”

Q is silent, caught out. 

Honestly, he couldn’t remember exactly why. They had differing opinions about post-university plans that escalated into a drawn out argument. He could have bit the bullet and told Mansfield about Alistair then, but he didn’t. 

More accurately, did not want to. He wasn’t sure about _them_ yet. It was all too fast. Would it have made a difference if he’s asked Alistair for more time? Would Alistair have understood? Would it have even mattered? 

“I can’t turn back time. But even if I could, I couldn’t tell you if things would have been any different. I _am_ sorry for the hurt I’ve caused. I hadn’t realised how strongly you felt about it…,” Q looks for his words carefully, not wanting to reopen old wounds, “Perhaps that in itself is a clue, I simply wasn’t ready and I didn’t feel it as strongly.”

Alistair weighs his words and nods. He sighs, seemingly satisfied or at least accepting of the explanation. In silence, they move back to the lounge to collect his things and Q shows him out of the building per protocol. 

“I’ll see you in Brussels,” Q tries to be amicable. He really did feel awful. And he should make an effort to remain professional, considering Alistair might end up being Head of IT if the rumours came true. _Why does he have such bad luck with that department?_

“Yes. See you,” Alistair quips back, then before he steps out of the gates, he catches Q on the arm, “Benji, about James… something tells me he’s more than a ‘field tester’. If my guess is correct, his job comes with far more risks than the average operative… _If_ something happens, just know that I’m here for you.”

Before Q can say anything in return, Alistair steps out of the gate and turns around reminding him earnestly, “Benji, you were mine first.”

——

**Operations Room**

Q slips in quietly hoping to get an update about 007’s mission before leaving for the day. 

“…Ah, just a sec 007. He just walked in,” Josh gestures for Q to pick up a headset before tuning out his own to give them privacy. Its a post-mission update and the conversation need not be broadcasted. Josh’s nonchalant attitude tells Q that everything went well with the mission and no one is actively dying. 

“Bond? How did it go?”

“You weren’t checking up on me the whole day?” 

“Sorry, I do have other things to do than to nag you the whole day. Thought you might like the change.” 

“Hmm… not really. Rather like having you riding my back all day.” The joke only earns him a tepid response. Seems the quartermaster isn’t in the mood for banter this evening. 

“Q? Everything alright?” 

Pause. “Yes. Mission went well I presume?” Q’s response is slightly stilted. 

“Yes. You’ll be pleased to hear that the human traffickers have been arrested by he local authorities, the diamonds have been confiscated and the head of the organisation… terminated. No major loss of equipment, oh except for one exploding pen. Then again it was meant to be used, don’t you classify these as artillery instead of equipment?” 

Again no snapback. “Good to hear… When will you be back?”

“Should be home in about 48 hours. I’m at the airport now, waiting for the first connection,” Bond adjusts his tone match Q’s more somber tone, concerned. 

“Alright. See you then. Have a safe trip, 007.”

“Night Quartermaster.”

——

**Quartermaster’s Residence**

James arrives home round half past eight, a few hours earlier than anticipated. Jellicles comes running up to him and climbs his jean clad leg. 

“James?” Q calls out from the kitchen.

“Mmm… Surprise?” He comes up behind Q who is loading the dishwasher and nuzzles the back of his neck. Q leans back into the touch. 

“Caught an earlier connecting flight,” he says by way on an explanation. 

“There’s Vietnamese in the fridge if you’re hungry. I just put them away.”

James makes a beeline for it. Making pleased noises when he sees what it is. He doesn’t bother portioning it out, just tips the whole thing into a huge bowl and chucks it into the microwave. 

When it’s done, he joins Q on the living room rug in front of the telly. Despite having already had dinner, Spot is immediately curious about the contents of the bowl, coming for a sniff. 

James sits on the floor alongside Q, using the sofa as a backrest. The leg closest to Q is bent at the knee. Q reaches out to clasp the knee, resting his chin on it, craving contact. 

“Everything alright?” James asks lightly, between chewing and fending off Spot. 

“I was wondering… if you had spare time in your schedule next week?” as if he didn’t have access to 007’s mission schedule. 

“You already know the answer to that.” 

“Thought you’d appreciate the illusion of autonomy…” 

“You have round the clock access to my Smart Blood data; can’t even toss one off without you knowing. The illusion was shattered ages go…,” then more gently, “What is this about?”

“Could you take a few days off and come with me to Brussels? M decided I should make the presentation.” 

James doesn’t look surprised. Or very bothered. Shoveling another mouthful of fried rice with lemongrass beef into his hungry maw. 

Q narrows his eyes at him, “….but you already knew that.”

Shrug. Chew. Smile. Swallow. 

“Eve?”

“Tanner.” 

“Why did Tanner tell you about that?”

James waves his spoon at him, “You first. Why do you want me to come along?”

Q was going to recite the line he’d practiced earlier, a sales pitch about making it a short holiday - they could explore the city and some of the sights together. But what comes out is something entirely different if closer to the truth.

“Alistair kissed me the other day,” he blurts out then braces for James’ reaction. 

Long pause… chew. Swallow. “In Q-Branch?” 

“The pantry. We’d just sent off the paper and had a few drinks.” his fingers run up and down James' shin, a self-comforting gesture. 

“Where was Mark?”

“He got called off for 004’s mission,” Q explains. 

“A lesser man would say I told you so… but not me,” he grins, insufferably smug about it. Then continues eating. 

“You’re taking this very well,” It’s a complete contrast to weeks earlier when he’d just met Alistair. 

James chuckles ruefully, “That’s because I’ve had more than 24 hours to think about it.” 

“How did… Eve,” He’d told Eve in anguish about the incident. “For a secret organisation, we’re pretty shit at keeping things to ourselves.” Q is glad he’d told James the truth.

James finishes the last spoonful and sets the bowl on the coffee table. Then he leans back and regards Q who still has his arms wrapped around James’ knee. 

“I asked her about it. You were acting strange! Then I get an email from Tanner saying that M’s going to assign me as your bodyguard for the trip to Brussels next week. Something to do with the technical paper generating excessive interest. Worked out in the end.”

“It won’t be a problem would it?” he doesn’t want to have to write an incident report about someone getting shot. 

“I was going to ask you that question. It wasn’t me he kissed,” for James to be able to joke about it means he’s decided to be a mature adult. 

“Well nice to know you’ll be defending my honour,” Q huffs sarcastically. 

“I could still break his legs if you want me to,” he offers cheerfully. 

Q makes a non-committal sound. Now that he’s relieved that James knows about the incident, and is coming with him on the trip, he can pay attention to other things. 

He reaches out to peel back the collar of James’ shirt, he’s sporting a nice tan. 

“Like what you see?” James raises his eyebrows at him.

“Nice tan, brings out your eyes,” Q remarks appreciatively. 

“Want to see my tan lines?” He straightens his leg and pulls Q into his lap. 

“Wouldn’t put it past you not to have any.” Q retorts before kissing him. James tastes like his dinner which is to say, delicious. 

—— FIN ——

**Author's Note:**

> See 'Triangle Sandwiches' for my notes on Alistair.  
> I realise that the conversation and reactions are not melodramatic. But my goal here was to depict a 'healthy' stable relationship between Bond and Q in so much as it is possible.
> 
> Alistair... I have plans for him, but I'm gauging reactions first. XD
> 
> \------  
> As usual, if you enjoyed it, please leave a kudos, bookmark or comment!
> 
> Other stories available on the dashboard.


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